


stars in the storm

by bogsheep



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Angst, Autism, Autistic Snufkin, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sensory Overload, comfort items, his hat is his comfort item, projection time babes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:56:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18753130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogsheep/pseuds/bogsheep
Summary: "The storm was passing, finally, after hours upon hours of screaming skys, and while Snufkin had never been one for prayer, he had been doing just that over and over since it had started."· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·Snufkin loses something dear to him- but for the life of him, Moomin just cant understand why he's so distressed?





	1. when the wind is blowing cold

**Author's Note:**

> snufkin is autistic n I'll stab anyone who says he ain't.

"Oh, dear, I do hope Snufkin is alright."  
  
The rain smashed down on the windows and the roof, wind ripping around with it and thunder crashing like cymbals, the storm's sounds mixing and blending together in an intimidating natural orchestra. Moominmama was washing the dishes, hands cleaning a plate but eyes locked outside, carefully scanning the forest edge for any sign of the friendly vagabond they hadn't seen for quite a few days.  
  
Moomin was in a similar position, nervously looking from the window, to his hands, to Mama, back to the window.  
  
"Do you think he's stuck somewhere? What if he couldn't get somewhere safe in time? Oh, Mama, what if-"  
  
"Now, Moomin, theres no need for that." Moominmama said, placing down a plate and wiping her hands on her striped apron as she walked over to her son. "You know how resourceful Snufkin is. Why, he's probably been surpised by far worse storms than this! Just wait, it will blow by and he'll return, harmonica in hand, with a fun new story to entertain you and the others. Now, help me put these dishes away, wont you?"  
  
Moomin got up and to work, but his mind was a million miles away. Every bright strike of lighting that filled the room with a chilling blue hue made him flinch, not because he was shocked necessarily, but because Snufkin was somewhere out there- possibly cold, almost definitely alone, and maybe even scared. Not that he had ever seen Snufkin truly scared, but if he was Snufkin, he sure would be in that moment. The sound of the rain, angry and unforgiving in its assault on the house and the world that surrounded it, made Moomin shiver in sympathy with his poor friend. He handed Moominmama another dry plate for her to put away, eyes drifting back to the window.  
  
_Snufkin, oh Snufkin, please be safe!_


	2. so if you ever find yourself alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> autistic comfort items 🤝 autistic not liking changing ur clothes

The storm was passing, finally, after hours upon hours of screaming skys, and while Snufkin had never been one for prayer, he had been doing just that over and over since it had started.  
  
He laid, curled tightly, underneath a rocky cliff, with his paws clutched desperately over his ears. There was a slight tremor about him, going from his legs to his chest to his hands to his breath, and it had no sign of slowing. His eyes were clamped tightly shut, making stars shine behind them. His tail had long since been tucked between his legs, all huddled against his chest. The rocks had somewhat protected him and his clothing from the harsh stormwater, but he had dragged himself here through the it anyways, causing him to be damp and uncomfortable.  
  
In all honesty, he shouldn't have had such a reaction- in the past, storms had been uncomfortable, upsetting even, but he had always gotten through them with little outward distress.  
  
But this time was different.  
  
This time he has lost his hat.  
  
In every storm, every loud party, every crowded room, every argument- he had at least had his hat with him. The texture, one that had once been soft but long since gotten rough with age- the smell, of wood and wildlife and everything Snufkin loved- it all calmed him, comforted him, even when his ears were ringing and in pain from the noise, when he felt the walls closing in around him, when he felt a vicious tendril of blind panic and fear begin to grow inside of him- it was there. It was always there.  
  
It was always there.  
  
It was _always there._  
  
_It wasnt there._  
  
The storm had swept it away. He had been caught off gaurd- too swept up in his music and thoughts to notice, _Snufkin you **idiot,**_ \- and suddenly, the dreadful wind and rain were ripping his prized hat away from him. He chased it, he really tried, but it was too fast and the rain was quickly drowning him with chills, and the thunder began rattling him to the very core, and he had to clasp his hands over his ears, tears welling up as he forced his legs to run away from his hat.  
  
The very memory sent him spiraling back into tears.  
  
Snufkin, despite his tears, forced himself to uncurl. He sat up precautiously, immediately scanning the near area for any sign of his beloved hat. No such luck, it seemed.  
  
Pulling himself into a sitting position, knees once more against his chest, Snufkin considered his options.  
  
His mind wanted desperately to go searching for his hat. To get up and go walking, looking everywhere in the world to find it. It was a pervasive, almost overwhelming itch within him, begging to be listened to. However, with Snufkin being wet from rain, going off right then would mean he would almost certainly get sick; if he got sick, he would have a harder time finding his hat, not to mention putting himself in danger, which would greatly concern Moomin.  
  
That was the other matter. His heart wanted to go run to Moomin, cry and yell and ask him for his help. Moomin was such a soft friend, comforting and nice and Snufkin's favorite person. He was the only thing, besides finding his hat, that would make him feel any better. And if he went to see him, he could search for his hat along the way and then ask Moomin and his family for help searching everywhere else.  
  
Having convinced both parts of himself, the matter was settled, and Snufkin pushed himself off the ground.  
  
His clothing was damp and it made his body feel horribly strange, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. The idea of losing another piece of his prized clothing made him feel dizzy, so he just pressed his arms around himself and set off in the direction of Moominhouse, eyes scanning fervently all along the way.


End file.
